From the Editor: Judy
Sanders is a longtime leader of the National Federation of the Blind. She now
lives in Minneapolis. The following article appeared in the summer 2003 issue
of the Minnesota Bulletin, the publication of the NFB of Minnesota. Her story
is similar to those of many of us who grew up before parents knew to get canes
into the hands of their young blind children. Luckily, mastering the long cane
is not like Braille literacy, much more easily done when started early. True,
children who begin using the cane as toddlers may well learn its value easily
and naturally, but with determination and the inspiration of good role models,
anyone can learn to use the long white cane at any point in his or her pedestrian
life. Here is Judy's story:

It all began when I was
ten. It should have started a lot earlier, but that's easy to say now. When
my parents discovered that their baby twins were blind, they were devastated.
What kind of future could they envision for their children? To find out, they
began looking for blind adults from whom they could learn. They found two sources:
a sheltered workshop that gave blind adults very limited employment opportunities,
and a blind bowling league. They volunteered to drive people to the bowling
alley. Unfortunately, they did not learn much from these contacts about what
the future could hold.

My
parents were practical people; they realized the importance of allowing us to
explore our environment. The first thing to go was the playpen. We were encouraged
to move around the floor and see what we could find. I am told that I never
crawled; I scooted everywhere.

Later
they began investigating our choices for a good education. In the 1950's most
blind children were educated at schools for the blind. We were given a good
foundation in reading and writing Braille and in other academics; however, no
attention was given to teaching us how to travel from place to place safely
and independently--that is, until I was ten.

We
learned about inside safety. Trailing the walls and holding our hands in front
of our faces for protection from overhead objects was the first lesson. We all
felt ridiculous hiding our faces, so we never used this technique except during
lessons, when we had no choice. To this day I have never met a blind person
who travels this way.

My
first cane was a short, crook-handled aluminum cane. It was heavy, and I never
relaxed while using it. For one thing, I used it only during lessons; no one
made me use it at other times, and I was not motivated to do it on my own. In
fact, I felt very self-conscious when traveling with this cane. I knew people
were staring at me. I knew that some blind people made a living by begging on
the streets, and I had heard that they carried tin cups with a picture of a
white cane on them. I did not want to be one of those people.

Though
adults assured me that it was not necessary for me to use my cane when traveling
with sighted people, I was also told I was amazing for what I could accomplish
with the cane. My instructor was invited to speak to various civic groups, and
I remember being asked to demonstrate the cane. I walked from my chair to the
edge of the stage and the audience gasped because I stopped just in time to
keep from falling into their laps.

Throughout
high school and college I used a folding cane and carried a purse big enough
to hide it. My college friends would meet me and take me from place to place.
I now know that my social life would have been much more satisfying if I had
asserted my independence. I would then have been equal to my peers.

Upon
graduating from college, I was introduced to the National Federation of the
Blind. People were talking about going to a national convention in Houston,
Texas, and I considered joining them. I weighed the pros and cons of this journey.

Pro:
I wanted a teaching career, and I knew I would have the chance to meet other
blind educators. Con: I would not know where to go upon arrival. Pro: I knew
several people who were going, and I could stick with them--at least I would
not be alone when getting lost.

The
pro list won the day, and I had the time of my life. I cannot say that I magically
transformed myself into an avid cane user, but I began thinking. I noticed how
little effort it took for blind people to get around the huge hotel. They even
left the hotel to explore the city. Why wasn't I doing these things?

In
the next few years I came to know all that the Federation had to offer. My Federation
friends have given me far more than I can ever give back. With respect to the
cane, I have come to value my freedom to come and go as I please. I can take
pride in saying to my sighted friends and colleagues that I will meet them somewhere.
I now travel thousands of miles each year alone and don't think twice about
it.

Times
have changed. Not only do we have an organization for parents of blind children,
but because of the National Federation of the Blind we now have adjustment-to-blindness
training centers operated by blind people to teach the use of the cane and make
the students proud. Blind people are equal partners in today's society, and
the cane is one reason why.

I now travel with a lightweight,
fiberglass cane and it stands straight and tall. I no longer need a purse in
which to hide my cane, and I can smile at the people who stare at me.